When Things Get Dark: Stories Inspired by Shirley Jackson by Karen Heuler & Ellen Datlow

Author:Karen Heuler & Ellen Datlow [Heuler, Karen & Datlow, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: 1789097150
Publisher: Titan

They wait politely in an informal greeting line that has gathered around Jeanne, who wears a red sequined gown. Another man in a gray suit carrying what looks to be a straw-woven picnic basket comes by asking for cell phones. Most of the people around them hold up empty hands, signifying they’d already complied with the demands of the basket.

Jacqui looks at Frances expectantly, or is it questioningly? Frances cannot tell. Earlier, Jacqui made a show of leaving her purse and apparently her phone under the passenger seat. Did she know this phone request would be made? Frances says, “There’s no way in hell I’m giving up my phone.”

Jeanne steps between them and says, “Putting phones out of reach is one of my office rules when we have meetings. I’d rather people fully engage with one another without distraction. Hello, my dear.” Jeanne hugs Jacqui quickly. “I’m so glad you made it.” She holds Jacqui at arm’s length and drinks her in. Jacqui apologizes for being late, muttering something about the drive being longer than they anticipated. Jeanne turns her attention to Frances and says, “I’ve heard so much about you, Frances, it’s wonderful to finally meet.”

They hug and Jacqui widens her eyes, clearly enjoying Frances’s discomfort.

“It’s very nice to meet you too, Jeanne,” Frances says. “I’m sorry about the phone thing. But if something goes wrong at my café, like if it catches fire or something—” she laughs at her own joke that she knows isn’t all that funny, “—I need to know.”

“Of course, of course. But, even if it did go up in flames tonight, god forbid, we know it wouldn’t matter since the world is ending tomorrow.” Jeanne laughs.

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” Frances drinks from her beer bottle. She’s either not in on the joke or is the butt of one.

“Oh Jesus, Frances, I’m sorry.” Jacqui nervously darts her eyes between the two women. “I don’t know how I forgot, but I did. I didn’t—” she pauses, gestures at Frances, and speaks directly to Jeanne, “—I didn’t tell her there’s a theme to the party.”

Jeanne’s rigid posture momentarily curls. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me?” Frances’s voice goes higher pitched than she intended. She did not want to sound so obviously hurt.

“Surprise? I’m sorry. I feel awful. Jeanne, I don’t think I’ve told you, and it’s not a big deal, really, but I tend to stress out and my brain can shut down before—before gatherings like this—”

“Oh, Jacqui, I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“No, it’s okay, please don’t apologize. I’m fine. It just takes a little extra work to get me to the party. Once I’m there, I’m always fine, and I have a great time, and I’m usually the last one to leave, right, Frances?” Jacqui grabs Frances’s hand and squeezes.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, Jacqui, and please let me know if you need anything. And, yes, Frances, the theme of the party is the end of the world.

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